


The Score's Day

by elivan



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Gen, Tales of Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5637445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elivan/pseuds/elivan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is the day that all celebrate when Yulia began the holy work of inscribing the Score so that future generations may be able to seek its guidance...and Van's sick of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Score's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fonsheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonsheep/gifts).



> Many thanks to [my beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VSSAKJ/pseuds/VSSAKJ)!

Today is the day that all celebrate when Yulia began the holy work of inscribing the Score so that future generations may be able to seek its guidance...and Van's sick of it. As the newly appointed Commandant of the Oracle Knights, he has to be the one to stand at the front of the chapel with the Fon Master and smile sweetly as all the gathered faithful believers who have come to sing their praises to the Score and the Order of Lorelei -- none of them have the faintness idea that they're praising the very source of their imminent demise and the arm guiding them to that destruction.

At the very least, Van knows that the young Fon Master isn't enjoying any of the fanfare either.

"To think you've been dealing with this for years," Van says quietly to Ion as the choir continues to sing. Before his appointment, Van's work on this day was focused on simply maintaining patrols outside the city, a task that let him keep some distance from the festivities and was made all the easier through Arietta's special skill set. Now that he's Commandant, there's a certain expectation that he be visible for moments like this. It wasn't something he would mind...if his role was anything more than _just_ being visible and looking on approvingly of all the sickeningly merry activity going on around him.

"At least I know when I'll be retiring," Ion says frankly with a smile. "So I'll have that to look forward to, won't I?"

Van lets out a small polite laugh. That retirement is sooner than either of them like...But before he can get lost in those thoughts, Ion speaks again, loud enough that the others around them can certainly hear.

"Oh, it's almost over," Ion says in a tone that would sound like genuine disappointment to anyone who didn't know better. "The songs were always my favorite part."

Van bites his tongue to hold back an genuine laugh. "I'm sure they would be willing to host an encore if the Fon Master asked."

Ion gives him a sideway glance and though his smile never wavers, his eyes show that he _isn't_ amused, even if he continues to play along. "As nice as an encore would be, Daath's Score must still be read."

"Of course," Van nods, forcing a smile. The Score IS important after all. "You shouldn't keep them waiting." 

Ion stands up and brushes off the front of his immaculate robe before making a step towards the stage. Then he stops and turns to Van, whispering under his breath; "Don't keep _me_ waiting after this," before he moves to take his place at the podium.

It takes a moment, but Van quickly remembers what Ion was referring to. They were long overdue for a discussion on their next move...

"It will soon be the year, ND 2016..." The Fon Master begins the Score reading for Daath. Van already knows the words before the Fon Master reads them, as he had helped phrase some of the more... _creative_ interpretations. 

However, even off the stage, he has his own role to play. And so he sits in seemingly rapt attention, wearing a forced smile when the Score ensures yet another good year for the pious and the audience rejoices.

\---

Once the main events end, neither the Fon Master nor Commandant were required to stay. Still, there was the expectation that they both stay for the festivities to some extent, so it's well past midnight by the time they can both reconvine in the Fon Master's quarters.

Ion immediately takes a seat at the end of his bed, facing the small fireplace. "Won't you please start the fire, Van?"

Daath rarely became cold enough to warrant the use of the fireplace and tonight is unusually warm for the time of year, but Van doesn't bother to question the request. "As you wish," is all he says as he starts to toss wood into the fire place, and casts a basic arte to light them.

"That'll do. Thank you," Ion kicks his feet and makes a thoughtful sound. "Can you get my small desk? And my writing set."

When the Fon Master began to grow ill, the Grand Maestro _graciously_ gifted him with a small lapdesk so that he could still sign necessary paperwork while he was in bed, though Ion always found a reason to avoid using it. Why Ion wants it now is something that Van could only guess at, though it seems likely that he'll find out soon enough.

"Of course," Van says, before stepping into the next room to gather the items. It took him no time at all to find everything needed and to bring them to Ion. "Here you are--" Van pauses for a moment, considering just how informal the situation has been so far. "--Ion."

Ion gives him a pleased grin and takes the small lapdesk and writing set. "Perfect. Thank you, Van." Ion then places the desk over his lap and sets out the writing materials.

Van, still uncertain as to where this is leading, stands by the bed, watching as Ion writes. If the boy minds it, he certainly doesn't say anything as he focuses on writing out three words:

_To grow old._

The moment Ion finishes writing, he tears off the written portion of the paper and crumples it into a ball, throwing it into the fireplace. The paper immediately ignites into flame, then swiftly blackens and turns to ash. Van turns to give a questioning look to Ion, but the boy's eyes are focused on the flames -- though Van can see his smile fade.

There's a long moment before Ion eventually turns to him and breaks the silence. "Van, if you could wish for anything in a world with a future, what would it be?"

Van blinks, taken off-guard by the question. But then he pieces together what exactly Ion is doing. Another moment's thought, and he moves to sit beside the boy on the bed. "May I write out my answer?"

Ion nods, and easily hands over the desk and everything on it. Van takes up the quill and gives the page a thoughtful look before writing down his wish:

_To watch Tear grow up._

He then repeats the same action Ion did before, tearing out and crumpling his wish before tossing it into the fire.

They both watch his wish ignite and turn to ash, before Ion breaks the silence again. "Is _that_ what it's like to get old? You start wishing other people will grow old too?"

Van raises a brow, then he lets out a laugh. "I'm only in my twenties. I'm not _that_ old yet."

"Twenty seems ancient to me," Ion says with a smile that is strangely...warm. Not at all like the cold smile Van would have expected to go along with the implication of his words. "Doesn't thirty seem ancient to you?"

That question gives Van a rare moment of pause -- the kind where he realizes he has no answer to give, much less the 'right' one. "...I haven't given it much thought."

"Are you giving it thought now?"

Van is quiet for a moment, before he answers. "I stopped thinking about birthdays a long time ago. I don't think I'd start anytime soon."

Ion scoffs, and his smile seems to chill. "And we just celebrated _the Score's_ birthday and it had over two thousand of them. That seems unfair, doesn't it?"

Van turns to look back at the fire. The ashes of their wishes are indistinguishable from the ashes of the wood now.

"No, it _is_ unfair."

Ion makes a thoughtful sound, then takes the quill and begins to write again: _Twentieth birthday_. Again, he tears out his wish and throws it into the flames, and they both watch it burn.

Wordlessly, Ion hands the quill back to Van. He knows what to write, and does: _Thirtieth birthday_. That too, goes to the flames.

They both watch the flames in silence for a long while after, neither of them needing to express anything in words.

Their futures have been rendered to ash, but they both will do their damnedest to drag the Score and everything else down into the flames with them.


End file.
